


Practice

by ohsinnerman



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Eventual Romance, M/M, Missing Scene, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-25 21:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20032528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohsinnerman/pseuds/ohsinnerman
Summary: Just two creatures, in the beginning.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No idea where this is going! These two got me deep in it. I read religious Wikipedias for this, y'all.  
(Not beta-read, so apologies for any errors/inconsistencies. Also for bad British slang.)

Traditionally speaking, demons did not make a habit of denying themselves from doing whatever they wanted to do, in the very moment they wanted to do it. These things usually fell in the vein of murder, temptation, lust, torture—typical demonic activities. Crowley was far from your average demon, but in this, he was as Fallen as the rest of them.

So, building up a tolerance against his desire to be near Aziraphale had taken time, and practice. Starting from the very Beginning.

The feeling of being drawn towards the angel had been immediate, but soft at first. A slight gravitational pull that had drawn him up onto the walls of Eden; his jet-black scales sliding across the hot stones, tongue flickering out insistently, almost able to taste his own curiosity on the wind. The solitary, white-robed figure that he’d seen from afar was gazing out into the wasteland, and Crawly (not-yet-Crowley) could see the worry in the lines of his shoulders.

Nothing much at first. Simply the thought, I wonder what this fellow is about. And then they’d spoken.

The thing was, Crawly had never been surprised before. Even by his own creation, his sudden emergence into existence, the shock of it had been cradled by Her love—or even by his second creation, his own Fall. He’d seen that coming, if he was honest with himself, though not by much. It’s what came of hanging out with seedy types, and he’d known what Lucifer was.

But when the angel buckled under his prodding questions, his outburst of “I gave it away!” Crawly was surprised for the first time. And he liked it. He thought he could do with a lot more surprises. And as the rain started to fall, christening the barren sands, out of the corner of his eye he saw the angel raise one brilliantly white wing, and he was surprised again. How could he do anything but give in to that desire, to move just a little bit closer? 

That was how it had all began. 

+

Unfortunately, even this first dalliance in fraternization (a word Crowley would later spit back at Aziraphale in a desperate attempt to veil the hurt that lanced through him) had been noticed. Head Office kept a closer eye, back in those days.

When Crawly had gone to report the consequences of his temptation, stepping into the cavern that was Beelzebub’s office at the time, he hadn’t even so much as managed a “Hullo” before Beelzebub was wrinkling their nose in disgust.

“What in the Dark Lord’szz name is that smell?” they buzzed, looking as though they were going to be sick (though they did look that way most of the time). Their eyes narrowed at Crawly suspiciously. “It smells bloody… Heavenly in here. That couldn’t be you, could it, Crawly?”

“Ah, well…” Crawly stammered. He hadn’t been quite prepared for this. He’d been looking forward to a quick pat on the back*, and then he could nip back up to the mortal realm to see what that angel was up to now. He’d found himself distracted by the vague worry that the angel might be in trouble, what with the whole giving swords away. That wouldn’t be coming into vogue until Arthurian times.

*Figuratively speaking, that is. Hell didn’t much go in for physical touch that didn’t involve fists, hot pokers, or needle-nose pliers.

The boils spread across Beelzebub’s face pulsed unpleasantly, as they were wont to do. “Hastur’s reported seeing some blonde bloke floating about the Garden, you haven’t gone near him, have you?” Beelzebub leaned forward in their throne of horns; despite their small stature, their aura of demonic menace was an oppressive, demanding presence, and Crawly felt it as a weight on his chest, which had previously been buoyant with the discovery of surprise. 

He tried to arrange himself into something that resembled composure. “Only a bit of menacing, you know, ‘Take your holiness and beat it, I’ll tear your wings off,’ stuff like that,” he mumbled, cursing at himself for not thinking of this ahead of time. Of course other demons would be able to smell the divinity on him, for all that he’d only stood next to the angel for a few minutes. Demons could be quite sensitive to what they had once had, and lost.

Beelzebub still looked skeptical, their upper lip curled to reveal yellowing teeth, but they leaned back slightly, and the weight in Crawley’s chest lightened a bit. “Right. But best not to get too close to the opposzzition, I don’t trust you to not let something slide.” One of Beelzebub’s flies wandered towards Crawly and hovered by his ear; it took everything in his willpower to not swat it aside. 

“Sure, sure,” he muttered.

“Now,” Beelzebub went on, nose still wrinkled, “An account of your dark deeds committed in our Lord’s name.”

“Yeah, dark deeds, well,” Crawly started, but his mind was already elsewhere. He didn’t even give a second thought to listening to Beelzebub’s command to stay away from the angel. He’d just have to be more careful, plan a little bit better. That he was going to seek the angel out again was a given,* but clearly it couldn’t be terribly often when they were checking up on him like this. Which was fine. The conversation had been fun, a small diversion, but the angel’s company was by no means necessary. Crawly was only satisfying his curiosity, which as far as he knew, had never done a snake any harm.**

*For Satan’s sake, he hadn’t even caught the angel’s name.

**Yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some descriptions of childbirth. Oh, and swearing.

Aziraphale was drawn by the screams.

After God’s (surprisingly) brief questioning regarding the whereabouts of his sword*, he had truly tried his best to be more vigilant, to remain on the walls with the other cherubs that had been sent to guard Eden. The problem was, he wasn’t really sure what there was to protect anymore, with God’s little experiment let loose on the rest of the expanding world. But he’d never dare ask questions.

*Though he supposed She probably had quite a few other things going on.

But he was bored, not to mention a little bit worried. He’d become fond of the humans while they lived in the Garden; they were fascinating creatures, curious, delighted by the natural beauty that surrounded them, and by each other.

_Yes, well_, he thought, _they have themselves to blame for how that all shook out_. Even to himself, he didn’t sound terribly convinced. _And the serpent, I suppose_.

He hadn’t seen the serpent (Crawly, he remembered) since that morning on the wall. Once the rain had begun to cease, Crawly had muttered something about “reporting back,” throwing Aziraphale one last, odd look before morphing back into his serpentine form and slithering off.

The demon had seemed somewhat regretful about the whole exile thing, as they watched Adam and Eve walk away, but Aziraphale knew that had to be some sort of deception. Demons only cared for themselves, after all. * He had no idea why he’d offered the creature shelter under his wing.

*He’d read so in the small, corporate handbook issued after the Fall. It was short and to-the-point: demons were incapable of love, honesty, or empathy, and should in general be avoided, when not thwarting.

Then, while lost in his own thoughts, he heard the screaming.

It was a horrible sound, tearing through the air like a lightning strike, and it sent a chill down Aziraphale’s spine. He glanced around the walls of Eden, and found himself alone for the moment. The other cherubs didn’t seem to seek other’s company, the way he felt compelled to do.

There was another scream, and Aziraphale shifted on his feet. He wasn’t supposed to leave his post, of course. That had ended in disaster last time. He had given the humans his sword, and even that had been going too far. There was nothing else he could do for them.

_But…_

He shook his head, almost trying to physically remove the thoughts from his mind.

_But…_

He had been the one tasked with guarding the tree. The blame for the fall of man didn’t fall solely on Eve, Adam, or the serpent. He’d had a hand in it too.

Aziraphale stretched out his wings to their fullest extent, and leapt from the parapets of Eden.

+

Crawly, too, was drawn to the screaming.

He hadn’t been topside for very long, and had spent most of it sunning himself on a nice rock. Beelzebub had been pleased with his performance and said they would pass it on up to “the Big Guy,” * and as such, there really wasn’t much expected from him at the moment. His plan was to relax a little, maybe take a nap (he hadn’t tried one yet, but Adam and Eve had seemed very fond of them), and perhaps at some point, see what that angel was up to.

*A nickname that Crawly’s skin, well, crawl.

At the sound of screaming, however, he found himself shifting rapidly back into his two-legged corporation. He dusted the sand from his hair and robes, ear cocked to the wind. There it was again, definitely a woman. And at this point, there was only one woman.

Crawly quite liked Eve. She was definitely more interesting than Adam, who was pleasant enough to look at, but not very engaging to talk to. Eve was funny, though, and even when Crawly had first appeared, poking his head cautiously from the underbrush, she hadn’t screamed, or jumped. She’d simply gone “Look at _you!_” in a way that made Crawly feel warm, like the sun. Maybe like a flicker of something he’d felt long ago.

*He didn’t know how he knew his appearance could be unsettling, he just knew. It was demonic, after all.

The screaming didn’t seem as though it were coming from far away, and Crawly’s feet had apparently already started taking him in that direction, without his say so. He supposed that if anyone asked, he could say he’d heard the screams and just gone to enjoy whatever horrible thing was being inflicted upon the humans now.

As he got closer (if he was jogging slightly now, there was no one there to see him do it), he could make out words interspersed between the cries of pain. They seemed to mostly be along the lines of “I hate you,” “Get away from me,” and “This is some _bullshit!_” * And Crawly could now see a small tent made of lion’s hide, barely a lump in the shifting sands, along the banks of a pitifully thin, muddy river.

*Roughly translated from Adamic.

Just as he was about fifty feet away, the cries ceased, and there was silence for a moment (Crawly’s breath caught, he had forgotten he didn’t need it) before a reedy wail emerged from the tent. The sound was small and rich and strange. Crawly slowed to a walk, mesmerized by the noise, and just as he was about to reach for the flap of the tent, it was flung outwards, and there was the angel.

Crawly stumbled backwards in surprise, just as the angel shouted “Good heavens!” and clasped a hand to his chest. A hand covered in blood. Crawly felt his eyes widen in horror as he took in the angel’s appearance.

He was a complete mess, his pristine white robes now streaked with red, and he looked very, very pale. “Ah,” the angel said, apparently trying to compose himself while still looking utterly shell-shocked. “It’s you.”

“Uh, yeah, me,” Crawly managed, his mouth still slightly agape. It would have been silent, if it weren’t for that small cry, and the soft murmur of voices coming from the tent. “So,” Crawly swallowed. “How ya been?”

The angel looked at him as if he were the ridiculous one somehow. Crawly’s gaze traveled once again over the stained robes, and the angel looked down at himself. “Oh, my word,” he muttered, before flourishing a hand and returning his robes and hands back to their original state. He still looked fairly shaken, and Crawly found himself stepping forward and lowering his voice, as though speaking to one of the more skittish animals in the garden.

“What’s happened?” he asked, tilting his head to try and meet the angel’s eyes, which seemed to be darting all over the place. “Did something… bad?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought.

_A memory, of sitting and laughing with Eve, watching Adam try (and fail) to climb a particularly stubborn palm tree. He’d taught her how to roll her eyes that day, no small feat in his snake form. Her expression was open and unguarded, and she was unafraid._

“No!” the angel exclaimed, his gaze finally meeting the demon’s. A small smile was playing on his lips (not that Crawly was looking), before turning into a full, beaming grin. “No, something fairly wonderful has happened. I mean,” he continued, gesturing to his robes, “the whole thing is far from a walk in the park, let me tell you, and I’m sure Eve will have _plenty_ more to say on that, even more than she has already, I thought she was going to rip Adam’s head right off…” The angel’s rambling trailed off as he finally became aware of Crawly’s bemused expression.

“There’s a baby,” he smiled. “The first baby.”

Crawly exhaled, uncomfortably relieved that no one was being tortured or killed. Just a baby then. He was sure there’d be loads more of those. Still, he found himself arching his body slightly, trying to see into the tent.

The angel noticed. “Would you like to…” he gestured towards the darkness behind him. “I don’t think Eve would mind if you wanted to take a peek.”

Crawly did want to look. “No,” he said instead, attempting something like a drawl, “Don’t really see what any of that’s got to do with me.” Maybe he could pop back later after the angel was gone; appearances and all.

Suddenly he was aware that his attempts to get a look past the angel had inadvertently drawn them closer to each other, and he remembered Beelzebub’s warning. He took several steps back, trying not to look too hasty about it. “I should probably be off anyway, if there’s nothing exciting going on.”

The angel’s brow furrowed, and he huffed. “Nothing exciting… Just the first ever baby being born, and I helped, wasn’t terrifying at all…” he muttered, before schooling his face back into blank, angelic indifference. “You probably should, I suppose. Begone, fiend, and… all that.”

There wasn’t much feeling behind the words though, and Crawly couldn’t help giving the angel a small smirk. “Begone, right.” As he was about to leave, he remembered something, but found himself stumbling over the words a bit. “Ah, angel, name?”

The angel’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “Oh, the name? I don’t believe they’ve named him yet, I suppose it’ll be quite a decision to make.”

Crawly rolled his eyes impressively (Eve would’ve been proud of that one). “Not the baby. You. Your name.”

The angel’s eyebrows rose nearly into his hairline, and he looked about nervously. “Oh,” he said, nearly a whisper. “Well, it’s Aziraphale.” He worried his hands together before firmly tucking them into the folds of his robes.

Crawly nodded in acknowledgment before finally turning and walking away. It was very hard to look cool while walking on sand, he was finding. But as soon as he was far enough away, he tried the name out himself, softly.

“Azsssiraphale.”


End file.
